


Somewhere Only We Know

by IndigoNight



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magical Artifacts, Reunions, Winter Solstice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 09:20:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17281349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndigoNight/pseuds/IndigoNight
Summary: Thor receives an unexpected gift for Winter Solstice - one that allows him to revisit the past.For the DC/Marvel Holiday Exchange Bingo - Enchanted Ornament square.





	Somewhere Only We Know

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sneakend](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sneakend/gifts).



> A gift for Sneakend for the DC/Marvel Holiday Exchange Bingo. Sneakend requested "Enchanted Ornament" and Thorki. Sorry I'm a little late, but I hope you like it.
> 
> (This is technically set in some vague universe that doesn't really match any canons. The Avengers are a happy family team and Loki is more of a nuisance than a true villain.)

It is a relief to close the door to his room near the top of Avengers Tower; Thor would never say so, of course, not wanting to risk insulting his friends and teammates. Left behind is the din of a few hundred inebriated Midgardian full of holiday cheer and expressing it loudly.

On any other day, Thor would be thrilled. He would be in the thick of it, urging the merriment on and boisterously added his own voice to the din, he’d be sharing his stash of Asgardian mead with those of his companions who cannot benefit from human alcohol and joining in on whatever ridiculous games are invented - usually with the primary purpose of irritating a particular member of the team. Afterall, Thor loves a celebration as much as any Asgardian warrior and has spent many centuries living for such joyous affairs.

But tonight is the longest night of the year - a coincidence, Thor is fairly certain, since many Midgardians do not truly celebrate their holiday for four more days, but Stark always holds his big party a few days early so as not to interfere with the private celebrations of his guests - and Thor’s heart is heavy, his mind far away. Midgardians have adopted just enough Asgardian traditions over the centuries for these festivities to be at once painfully familiar and unsettling different.

The truth is, Thor is lonely - even among the crowd congregated in the Tower - and he is homesick. Sure, he could call to Heimdall, could go join the festivities that are undoubtedly being held in the Great Hall, presided over by Odin; he could join Sif and the Warriors, could find a drinking game worthy of truly challenging him, perhaps even engage in some of the dancing. 

But. But the feast would be lacking the special sticky buns that were his mother’s secret recipe, and there would be no show of illusions to dazzle the guests, no- 

Simply put, Thor is longing for a home that no longer exists. It is no matter, he tells himself, his home is here on Midgard now, the Avengers his new family. He enjoys celebrating with them, even if it isn’t the same. And he did enjoy the party, he’d stayed for hours, drinking and laughing and playing games. He’s certain no one noticed his distraction, and that no one will notice he has left early. He celebrated, and now he can spend the rest of the night in peace; he doesn’t have the heart to hold vigil for the sunrise like he should, but he knows it doesn’t really matter. Instead, he will sleep, and when he wakes up it will be a new day with only Midgardian holidays left to participate in.

He sheds his exterior clothes as he crosses his room, dropping them carelessly on the floor as he goes. He is fully prepared to simply face plant into the bed when he notices a small red box with a golden bow on top sitting propped against his pillow. Curious, he sits on the edge of the bed and picks it up; with closer inspection, it remains exactly as it had initially appeared, a simply red colored cardboard box tied with a gold colored ribbon that ends in an intricate bow. There are no markings, nothing to indicate who had left it there or why, but after all, gifts are traditional this time of year and certain members of the team prefer to show affection indirectly and from a distance.

One light tug on the end of the ribbon and the thing slides smoothly open. He lifts up the lid of the box, setting it and the ribbon aside as he peers inside. He takes excessive care with lift the small object off of its bed of velvet, cradling it gently in the palm of his hand. The object is a glass ball, not unlike the hundreds of balls hung on the veritable forest of evergreen trees Tony and Pepper had arranged to have erected all over the Tower. Except this ball is clear glass, rather than colored or painted, and inside is a gently swirling storm of tiny white specks - snow, but not like the “snow globes” that are peddled in many Midgardian stores, there is a faint chill to the glass in Thor’s hand and he knows instinctively that there is a genuine snow storm contained within this small ball. Faintly, through the swirl of the flakes, he can see the shadow of looming trees and something else, something he can’t quite-

Thor blinks and finds himself on his back in a bed of snow. He’s no longer holding the glass ball, no longer in his room at the Tower, and it’s quite possible he’s no longer on Midgard at all. Above him is the vast expanse of sky, snow drifting and twirling through the air in persistent but gentle flurries.

Strangely, the first thing that occurs to him is that he isn’t cold. He also is no longer wearing the pair of boxers that he’d striped down to in his room at the Tower; instead he’s wearing the soft breeches and tunic that he wore often during his youth. And even though these are not clothes designed for the winter snows, he feels comfortable. It’s as though the cold air slides over his skin, enough for him to sense the pleasant chill without digging or biting. 

He pushes himself cautiously to his feet, scanning his surroundings; perhaps he should have been prepared for this. Certainly, the moment he’d realized that the ball was magic - how else could it contain a miniature snow storm - he should have done something, should have gotten rid of the ball or called for his teammates. And he is  _ painfully _ aware that as soft and familiar as these clothes are, they contain absolutely no weapons. He cannot sense Mjolnir, cannot feel his connection to her, which means that no matter how hard he calls Mjolnir will not - cannot - come to him here.

Beginning to move carefully forward, the trees that he’d barely seen through the glass of the ball come into clear view. It’s a small copse of tall spruce trees, thick and green against the white backdrop of the snow. And then, in the midst of the trees, sheltered from the worst of the snow, is a small cabin.

Thor stops, he stops so hard and so abruptly that even his heart skips a few beats; he  _ knows _ this place. And that means he know exactly who left the box on his bed, who gave him the ball, and who is standing on the stoop of the cabin waiting for him.

“Merry Solstice, brother,” Loki says. He, too, is dressed in the soft, simple tunic and breeches of their youth, his hair left in its natural wave of loose, tangled curls. 

The instinct to brace for a fight and the urge to pull his brother into a hug hit Thor simultaneously at the sight of Loki, standing so still and calm in the snow in front of the cabin’s door. It’s been years since Loki’s first betrayal… and his second… and his third; ultimately, they’d come to a sort of unspoken truce. So long as Loki keeps his mischief away from Midgard, Thor and his friends won’t interfere. Of course, Loki has never been good at following rules. He pops up occasionally; once, ostensibly to warn the Avengers of a plot against them, though when all was done and the dust had cleared Loki had gone and an ancient artifact was mysteriously lost. Periodically he gets bored and decides to “visit”, which usually entails some sort of practical joke on Thor and his friends. And once he had shown up in genuinely need of their help after he’d gotten in too deep with some villain from the other side of the universe. But ultimately, he’s caused no real harm, at least as far as Thor has seen, and so the truce stands. Nevertheless, Thor has learned the hard way the caution is always prudent when it comes to Loki. “What is your game this time?” he asks. He keeps his stance loose and easy, for now, as he crosses a few steps closer.

Loki tilts his head and gives Thor a little pout, his voice so smooth that Thor can nearly feel the oil against his skin. “Is it so strange that I should want to see my dearest brother during the holidays?” His shoulders rise and fall in a little shrug that makes Thor think of the slither of a snake. “I’ve missed you.”

Thor narrows his eyes. There had been a time when he’d trusted Loki implicitly, with everything, with his life, his heart, his soul; now he has to analyze every flutter of Loki’s eyelashes, every twitch of his fingers, to always be prepared for a trick and never sure whether Loki is being sincere or not.

Loki sighs and rolls his eyes when Thor says nothing. “Oh relax and stop looking at me like that. I have no desire to cause you trouble tonight. And I know that you’ve been missing me too, so don’t try to deny it.”

“Where are we?” Thor asks instead, unwilling to follow Loki’s line of conversation.

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.” Loki puts a hand to his chest in an affected display of excessive drama.

“I remember,” Thor cuts him off before he can launch into any more theatrics. “But a memory is all that this place is anymore. The real thing was destroyed centuries ago, which means this must be some kind of illusion. So, where are we really?”

Loki sombers, his gaze flitting around them from the trees to the cabin to the cloud filled sky. “It’s no illusion,” he says. It makes Thor stop, internally throwing him off kilter that Loki’s voice has gone soft and deep - the closest thing to sincere Loki has ever been able to manage. “It is… a pocket. A shelter from the storm-” a snowflake lands on Loki’s nose, making his lips twitch crookedly and causing him to add sardonically, “so to speak.”

Thor follows Loki’s lead, taking another look around. Sure enough, it seems real, and a perfect match in every detail to his memory. He bends down, scooping up a handful of snow and letting it shift back to the ground through his fingers. The answer comes to him all at once, he simply knows it and knows it to be true - he can’t say how he knows or where the answer came from, except that perhaps he’s been spending more time with magic users lately than he’d thought. “The ornament. We’re inside the ornament, aren’t we?”

Loki’s lips twitch up again. “Clever boy,” he teases. “Have you been studying?”

Thor ignores him, but does take a few steps closer. He’s almost within reach now, almost close enough to reach out and grab Loki’s shoulder - though for what purpose he still hasn’t decided. “Why?” he asks. “Why make such a thing, why bring me here? To trap me? To keep me out of the way, perhaps, while you work some of your trouble?”

A part of Thor - the part that isn’t on the alert for something to go wrong - is surprised that Loki shows no offense, false or not, at the accusations. Rather, Loki remains surprisingly calm, unmoving even as Thor had advanced on him. There’s a small cloud of snow frosting his dark hair now, a there’s a shadow of blue at his hairline, but he merely stands there, watching Thor approach, his expression unchanging. “I told you, brother,” he says, and it’s still that deep, soft tone of sincerity that Thor is so unused to hearing, “I missed you. There is no game, no trap. I could not trap you here if I wanted to. You are here because you want to be, and because you miss me too. Because you miss this place, and… and the moment in time that it represents.”

Thor stops stock still. Every word Loki had said is true, true in a way that they may as well have been arrows shot directly into his chest. “You-” he starts, but it’s just as well that Loki cuts him off because he’s not entirely certain what he’d been about to say anyway.

“There’s no point in denying it,” Loki says calmly. “That’s the nature of this enchantment. This place is a pocket in time and space, one that only you and I can reach. And one that can only be reached willingly.” Loki takes a step back, spreading his arms as though offering permission, “if I am wrong, than leave. You only have to wish it and you will be back in your own Tower as though nothing had ever happened.”

Thor doesn’t want to leave, though. Because Loki  _ is _ right, damn him. And because there are things about this that Thor still doesn’t understand. “Why go to all this trouble?” he asks. “I know very little about magic but I do know that this is no simple enchantment. It must have taken a very long time, and a lot of power. So why do it? Why not simply send me a message? Asked me to meet you?”

“If I had, would you have come?” Loki retorts. There’s no hint of the mischievous smile left on his face, and in contrast he looks almost drawn, worn as though he has not slept properly in some time or is carrying some deep burden. 

The muscles in Thor’s jaw twitch involuntarily and he has to look away. He lets his eyes focus on a flurry of snowflakes, chasing each other in circles, in a dance where none can win. “Perhaps,” Thor says eventually, but he knows Loki doesn’t actually need him to answer.

“Such an invitation would have reached your mind,” Loki says. “You would have thought about it. Perhaps consulted some of your oh so heroic friends. But this? This invitation reached directly to your heart. You held the ornament and it answered the longing in your heart that you won’t even admit to yourself.”

Thor can’t stand still, and yet he can’t bear to leave. So instead he paces, treading heavy circles in the snow around where Loki stands, still and patient. “It doesn’t have to be this way!” he bursts finally. “You are still a prince of Asgard. You could come home. I would speak on your behalf, we could convince father, the Avengers, whoever needed convincing-”

Loki is shaking his head. He’s smiling again, but it’s a poor mockery of his usual smile, just as crooked but at the same time pulled down with sadness and shadow. “I cannot change my nature, brother, any more than you can.” He shrugs again, and this time there is no snake-like roll, no flippancy. “The Fates have made us this way and determined that we will forever been in conflict. We cannot deny that, no matter how much we might prefer-”

Loki stops, because so has Thor. He’s standing right in front of Loki now, so close that their chests would likely brush against each other if Loki hadn’t stopped breathing. “This is a pocket, that you have created,” Thor says slowly, and his own voice has gone deep and rough - at this distance, it’s impossible to miss the way Loki shivers, the flutter of his eyelashes against his pale cheeks. “A pocket that no one else can touch, no one else can find.”

Loki swallows, his throat bobbing and Thor can see strain in every line of his body, though Thor is fairly certain it isn’t a fight or a flight reflex Loki is fighting. “No one,” Loki confirms, his voice dry and hoarse.

And Thor gives in. There is a very, very small voice in the back of his mind whispering that this might still be a trick, that even if it isn’t this could still be some horrible mistake. But Thor ignores that voice and lets the walls that he has so carefully built between himself and Loki, between himself and his feels, and their past, come crumbling down. He gives in, and cups Loki’s face in both hands. “Not even the Fates?” he asks, and it’s a whisper now, little more than a puff of air between them.

Loki is shivering fully now, his whole body shaking as he too gives in and leans into Thor’s touch. Thor feels like he’s shaking too, everything inside of his quivering, eager and ready for something he’d thought he’d never again be able to have. “Just us,” Loki whispers.

Thor slides his fingers a little higher, until he can feel the soft strands of Loki’s hair, until he can curl his hands around the back of Loki’s head and cradle it. “Then here, in this place, nothing else matters,” he declares. He doesn’t even give Loki a chance to respond before scooping him up; Loki immediately wraps his strong thighs around Thor’s waist and makes sure neither of them are capable of doing any more talking. 

Blind and stumbling and not entirely caring if they make it or not, Thor heads for the cabin, for the large hearth and soft pile of furs he knows they’ll find inside.   
  



End file.
